Y
our first view from the corner,
what with everything else that
was going on, was not until
Saturday morning, when the
haze and the dust shimmered the view
of the landscape. The wind swept the
track, shaking it with it the occasional
scrap of paper. There seemed to be a
reluctance to run. The grandstands in
the distance were empty but for a tiny
segment reserved for VIPs.
It remains, though, one of the most
entrancing of all places in racing. A blind
approach in fifth/sixth gear. A downhill,
flat-out kink. A braking area as short as
your arm. A dinky, annoying hairpin left.
About the only section of modern track
that comes close, you thought as you
waited, would be the approach to the
last corner at Valencia, where a super-
quick corner leads into that final, tight,
left-hander and where there’s very little
room left in which to breathe. Bridge, at
the older Silverstone, also sprung to mind,
given the way that Luffield One always
interrupted the exit flow from that flat-out,
downhill right-hander.
Here, though, stood everything – a rise-
and-fall in both dimensions. It wouldn’t
be a section the TV cameras would love;
there would be no overtaking here; there
would be few visits to the run-off area,
even by the rabbits. A reward for skill,
though, it would surely be: only the very,
very best find the correct way to slow
a car to 50-60mph when it’s carrying
2.5–3.0g of lateral load and where there’s
no room to manoeuvre. And only the
absolute best can do so for an entire
Grand Prix distance.
They began to appear. Installation laps
and then the first of the ‘long runs.’
Tyre degradation – as ever – had been the
catchword of engineering huddles. Reality
–
as ever – would in time deny the charge.
Mark Webber came and went in a blur
of blue, red and yellow. Neat, smooth –
oh, so smooth – and economical. Very
economical. The line of least resistance.
Daniel Ricciardo, also looking very quick,
locked-up an inside front as he braked hard
for the hairpin; he would be the first of
many to do so in the day.
Now we are watching Lewis Hamilton
–
out there, pushing hard. He misses the
apex of the kink by a metre or so. His
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